


Chip Off The Old Block

by TheCursedTypewriter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzhardt, Let's have somethin sweet, M/M, REINZO WITH NO NSFW???, Reinzo, preposterous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8356561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCursedTypewriter/pseuds/TheCursedTypewriter
Summary: Reinhardt isn't as young as he used to be. Thankfully Hanzo has a way of remedying that.





	

Reinhardt, proud a soul as he was, could admit to many things. He could admit that sometimes he could be a bit of a glutton. He could admit that perhaps in a game of cards he would hide a winner among his deck. He could admit that he was very clumsy at times. What he could never admit, however, was that his body may have been catching up to his age.  
Just a bit.  
It’s after a tough battle in Eichenwald that Reinhardt realizes this, having bum rushed enemies into one too many walls, and swinging his hammer with perhaps just a little more force than necessary. His figure was well kept for a man of his age; He never let up on training, nor did he abide by any strict food plan (despite Ana’s insistence on him doing so). Time caught up with everyone, no matter the figure, and Reinhardt knew this well. Though it did not mean he took to it well.  
Flying back to the Watchpoint, he’d found himself in an uncomfortable slouch in his seat, constantly rubbing his neck or rolling something sturdy between his palms to loosen his knuckles. The fight had him bruised and scratched, stiff and tense. He could practically feel his calves tightening up in their position, and the occasional turbulence wasn’t particularly enjoyable, either.

He wasn’t very keen on the idea of being the designated geezer of the team. He had a reputation among them. A strong, brave, able bodied knight. He had to be loose and ready for a fight whenever one reared its ugly face. He couldn’t afford to be Grandpa, forced to retire over some tight screws.  
Thankfully for him however, cases like these came with a simple solution.

 

Hanzo was well known for his disassociation with the team. They were only to converse with him when it came to pressing issues. Leisure didn’t exist in his handbook. Only meditation, mealtimes, tea time, and rest. Training was done alone, and the only person who could hold a solid conversation was his brother, and even that was a rare occurrence. However, by some stroke of luck, Reinhardt had been able to bust through those barriers of his. He was able to see what lied beyond that brick wall, and he’d sworn to keep Hanzo’s smaller side a secret from the rest of the team.  
Trudging to said Shimada’s room, all it took was one knock to get Hanzo to open the door. The archer dons his usual dull grey yukata, hair pulled up tight into a strict ponytail, the rebellious fly hair hiding a little more than half of his right eye. His gaze rides up Reinhardt’s front to his eyes, where his tough exterior is quick to melt away. He relaxes.

“I was not expecting your return until next Thursday,” Hanzo hums monotonously, but Reinhardt understands that excitement isn’t one of Hanzo’s strongest suits. Reaching down, the knight pulls him into a tight embrace, burrowing his face into the younger man’s neck with a wide smile, able to feel the soft huff of air that Hanzo lets out as he’s crushed in the embrace.  
“I missed you as well.” Reinhardt chuckles against his skin, and Hanzo reaches up meekly to pat and caress his sides, before leaning out of the embrace. Reinhardt takes it as his sign to ease up. He releases, and Hanzo sighs contently.  
“It is comforting to see you return with no more than a flesh wound,” Hanzo starts, stepping aside and leading the elder into his dorm by the hand. “I checked in as often as I could manage, however even I am held to unkind restrictions on the basis of communication. What were-” Reinhardt all but breaks his bed as he flops onto it, groaning out in dull pain as his muscles were allowed a moment of rest. Hanzo pauses his sentence in order to watch the man roll onto his back, kicking off his boots and getting as situated as possible.  
The silence seems to remind him that there was a question at hand.  
“Do continue, liebling,” Reinhardt huffs in a quiet breath. “I am just sore, is all.”

The archer rolls his eyes.  
He should’ve assumed that if there were no issue on the outside, there was no doubt a problem on the inside. Hanzo strides over to his partner with a stern gaze; something similar to a parent about to scold a child for drawing on the wall. His hands, however, oppose the crude expression on his face. Gently, he slides his hands under Reinhardt’s shirt, making the elder flinch up with an aggrieved hiss.  
He was definitely in need of a hand.  
“Relax.” Hanzo instructs softly, pushing at Reinhardt some.  
“Remove your shirt, and rest on your stomach.” His words are as clear as they are silky, and Reinhardt stiffly complies, working his tee off as best as he could before getting comfortable on the mattress. Ankles hanging off of the foot of the bed, and a pillow tucked under his chin, he takes a few deep breaths to even himself out.  
Hanzo takes a seat by Reinhardt’s side, allowing Reinhardt to adjust to his palms before they got to work.  
“I assume that you’re not exactly all well, are you? No matter. By the end you should be able to move without wincing every few strides.”

Hanzo slides the heels of his palms up carefully to Reinhardt’s right shoulder blade, feeling around for his rotator cuff. He kneads the area with his fingers some, and Reinhardt sighs heavily, unwinding at the feeling.  
“Does it hurt you when I push here-” Hanzo begins, but doesn’t quite end as Reinhardt grunts. He’s surely hit a more tender area. With a low hum, Hanzo begins to knead the area, digging thumb and heel into the area.  
It continues like this for a while; feeling out high tension areas, unwinding, and smoothing them out. At several points Reinhardt would practically cheer at a loud pop or snap caused when Hanzo pushed both palms into his spine.  
The Shimada chuckles.  
“How do you feel?”  
“Better,” Reinhardt gurgles euphorically.  
“Younger!” He laughs soon after.  
Another pop, another satisfied growl. His toes practically curl as his joints are loosened, the smile on his face no doubt an indication of his peaceful stupor. If Hanzo hadn’t known any better, he would’ve compared the sounds to those of an animal.

“You are oddly satisfied with a mere back rub,” snorts Hanzo as he removes his hands from the knight’s back. Reinhardt rolls over with a loud, windy huff, eyes closed and arms spread in bliss. Hanzo stays there at the ledge, sat properly as he watched the man relax before him. He’d work on his hands and feet later, but for now, he was more interested in how smitten his partner was looking. Eyes pinched shut, lips curled in a pleasant smile, chest lazily rising and falling with the heavy breaths he took. Comfortable.  
Reinhardt weakly throws an arm over Hanzo’s knee, giving a gentle tug.  
“Rest with me, my dear,” he hums, and Hanzo only half abides. Scooting closer to his side, he grants Reinhardt access to encase his middle in a hug, rubbing his face into his leg like an overgrown cat. Hanzo reflexively begins to card his fingers through those silver strands, petting the beast, watching as Reinhardt dozed off on his lap.  
“You always treat me so well, mein schatz… join me.”  
Hanzo shakes his head.  
“I have matters to attend to, shortly,” Hanzo whispers, leaning his head down and pressing a long, earnest kiss upon the man’s brow. “You may rest here in my leave.”  
“Already?” Reinhardt quickly retorts, emphasizing his distaste by squeezing at his lover.  
“I have just gotten back from such a long trip… Surely you can rain check?”  
Hanzo huffs at that. Reinhardt may have been big on tradition and order, but he did make a hypocrite of himself often when it came to Hanzo.  
“I am not keen on straying from my schedule,” says the archer with a sigh, rubbing Reinhardt’s back. “I plan to meet with the Soldier for a brief discussion, and immediately after meet with my brother. It is almost time for tea.”  
It was odd, acknowledging the idea of spending time with Genji again. He’d definitely grown past his teen years. He was punctual, well mannered, and surprisingly formal. It seemed that those days with his teacher and the strict training of Overwatch had finally gotten through to him after all. Perhaps that was what made him such an unfamiliar omen to Hanzo. He may have been called Genji now, but the Genji he knew and the Genji now were two complete opposites. But, pushing past that wall of discomfort would be essential if they were to recreate a familial bond once again. Uncertain as Hanzo was.

A groan pulls him out of his thoughts and back to the man swaddling his hips in his arms, unhappily rutting his nose into Hanzo’s thigh.  
Like a tired child. He looked close to throwing a small fit down there. Hanzo smooths his hand up the back of Reinhardt’s neck, thumbing the area behind his area slowly.  
“Your absence pains me, Hanzo,” Reinhardt finally mumbles out, before slowly releasing his tight grip on the younger man.  
“But I will wait until I may have you for myself.” Sitting up, Reinhardt flattens his hair down, leaning into Hanzo’s side. Hanzo accepts the weight, and pushes against it comfortably, taking a moment to lull his head unto the other’s shoulder a moment. He allows the silence to fill the space for a while, hand creeping to rest over his knight’s affectionately. His hands were always warm, oddly enough. It could be freezing cold and his palms could melt the ice in seconds, it seemed. Hanzo found that he greatly admired that detail. His own palms, when not enclosed around bow and arrow, were cold most of the time. Be it his lack of handiwork around the base or ‘his cold heart’, as that Song girl had once stated, they were chilled to the bone. It was nice to have contrast, in a way. Someone so warm admiring something so cold. Hanzo squeezes two of Reinhardt’s large fingers before sighing, slowly removing himself from the moment.

“I’ll be sure not to waste time; the Soldier is usually very blunt.” He knows, however, that tea must have genuine time put in. He cannot promise that that portion may take a while. Thankfully, however, due to Genji’s fragile insides, he isn’t permitted to drink much of anything too much. Eating is a very different story, however.  
Reinhardt nods against his head, before patting Hanzo’s leg.  
“Take your time,” he hums pleasantly, taking a moment to press a kiss to Hanzo’s cheek. He huffs a laugh in response, elbowing the other.

 

Hanzo rises, readjusting his clothes and taking a once-over of his appearance in the mirror. He may have been mature, but it didn’t keep him from being the slightest bit vain.  
“I’m sure you’re aware of what I expect when you are left alone in my quarters,” Hanzo calls from the mirror, looking over to Reinhardt. “I know that you will not stray from those expectations.”  
Reinhardt nods, and Hanzo moves for the door.  
Stopping just before exiting, he looks over once more.  
Reinhardt’s eyes meet his gaze, and Hanzo loosens up a bit, leaning into the door some.  
He smiles.

“I’m glad you’ve returned.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a headcanon by Vermillionsketcher! His reinzo headcanons were just too hard to resist writing  
> （ﾉ´∀`）  
> Please go and follow him at http://vermillionsketcher.tumblr.com/ !  
> His artwork is fantastic and the blog ensures a good time!!! 
> 
> Hopefully this fic strays away from the consistent sex theme for this ship. I hope to write more wholesome scenes like these in the future of Reinzo.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
